Deep Down True by Juliette Fay Page A

always trying to “get the best bang for the buck.” It was so like him to change their coverage and not tell her.
    “Please, have a seat. This one’s more comfortable,” he said pointing to an upholstered chair with a pale green paisley pattern. It’s the bad-news chair! Dana realized. Meant to cushion the blow of unpaid bills or the necessity of a root canal. He seated himself in the other chair, a battered Windsor with the stain worn down on the arms. “Mrs. Stellgarten,” he began.
    “Please call me Dana,” she said, realizing she’d never bothered to give him the right to this familiarity in all the years she’d known him. It was only now, with some obvious unpleasantness in the offing, that she was taking him into her circle of friendship, in the unlikely event it would provide some small protection from . . . whatever this was.
    The smooth skin around his brown eyes crinkled warmly. “Dana it is, then.” He took a breath. “So. I’m seeing a change in Morgan’s enamel that worries me a little.” He seemed to be waiting for her consent to go on, or perhaps giving her a moment to prepare herself.
    “Okay . . .” she said.
    “Tooth enamel, it’s kind of like glass—very smooth, especially at Morgan’s age. All those adult teeth are fairly new, so they should be in pretty good shape. What I’m seeing with Morgan is the beginning of some erosion, especially on the backs of her front teeth and the insides of her molars.” He paused again. “Dana, this pattern of erosion—it’s consistent with purging.”
    For the briefest moment, Dana’s brain blocked his meaning. Purging , her brain mollified her, getting rid of stuff you didn’t need was a good thing, right? But then it came to her in small pieces. Apparently Morgan was getting rid of something she needed.
    “Could there be some other reason for this . . . pattern?” Dana asked tightly, trying to stanch the steady flow of panic that was seeping into her chest.
    “A very reasonable question.” He nodded. “For instance, constantly sucking on something acidic, like lemons, or chewing sticky candy causes enamel to deteriorate.”
    Morgan didn’t like lemons and preferred chocolate to chewy candy. But in that moment, the fact that something else—anything else—might explain this came as a relief.
    “Dana,” he said gently. “Candy degrades enamel in very specific places, mostly the crowns. And lemon tends to erode the fronts of the teeth, not the insides. It wasn’t either of those things.”
    “I would know,” Dana insisted, pressing the words from her lips in an even flow, trying desperately not to reveal the panic that was now filling her head like rushing water. “I would certainly know if she were . . . doing . . . that.”
    “You are a very concerned, conscientious parent. Anyone can see that. And teenage girls can be incredibly secretive. Believe me, I had my own to deal with.”
    Dr. Sakimoto was a father? Dana clung to this distraction like a life jacket. “How old are they?”
    “I have two daughters—a college sophomore and one in medical school.”
    “That’s wonderful! What kind of medicine is she pursuing?”
    “Undecided,” he said. “Dana, we need to think about getting Morgan to stop purging. I can give you a list of resources. . . .”
    Purging. That word would never be the same to her again. “No,” she said, unable to take in any more information. “Not right now.”
    There was a knock on the door, and Marie’s voice, raised slightly, said, “Morgan’s all set.” Dana ejected herself from the bad-news chair and fairly lunged for the exit.
    On the car ride home, Morgan flipped open the vanity mirror and ran her tongue across her teeth. “I just love when they’re all smooth and clean,” she said. “It’s like you get to start over with a whole new set of teeth.”
    But you don’t, Dana wanted to say. The body you’re born in is the one you die in. Driving home with her possibly bulimic